272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Lucy clasped her hands over her ears as it screamed. "What's that?" demanded McClintock. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame. She heard the television blaring away. ‘No need to shake in your boots,’ Gerald said soothingly. Her name was Rhea. .
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